


Here Begins Our Something

by thatfaerieprincess



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Relationship, F/F, Gideon’s nostalgic inner monologue reliving memories, It’s soft and sad and sweet and fluffy, Runaway AU, poetic nostalgia and softer days after tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfaerieprincess/pseuds/thatfaerieprincess
Summary: Gideon finds a relic from her and Harrow’s past while cleaning.  Memories ensue.This is a modern setting, no powers, teen runaway AU
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54





	Here Begins Our Something

“Oh, Harrow.... look at this,” I breathed, staring down at the crumpled paper I had dislodged, but you weren’t there.You weren’t home— I remembered that now, you had left while I was cleaning, something about groceries and returning library books... Nerd. 

I stared down at your sharp, angry handwriting, a list scrawled on the back of a diner receipt in blue pen you had stolen from the waitress when she handed us the bill.I could still smell the shitty coffee if I closed my eyes.Pancakes and that bland chicken soup that I thought sucked but you loved so much.Our first real meal in 17 years.God, Harrow, we were so young.We were so fucking scared. 

I sat down mindlessly in one of the kitchen chairs, lost in those memories.Had it been dark? No, it was sunrise. That’s right.We had been driving all night at that point, too afraid to stop until we were over the state line, and then some.I remember you looked at me with those big, wide eyes when I pulled into the parking lot, terror shooting through you faster than the caffeine you had been chugging for the last few hours.We walked in with my hand at the small of your back— casual, but close enough you could feel me, close enough I could grab you if we had to run.I never wanted to let you out of my sight again, Harrow, truly.I couldn’t stop reaching for you, afraid I’d turn around and find you were still back in Drearburh, scared and alone. We curled into that booth side by side— your hip to my hip, your flesh to my flesh.Not nearly close enough to satisfy the tension in either of us.

It was at least half an hour before we really began to settle, stopped making shifty eyes at that poor waitress who was just trying to be kind.I think she could tell.That close to the highway, I bet she saw a lot of kids like us.But she treated us like any other patrons, and she only looked at us with sympathy and pity when she was across the room and thought we weren’t looking.I remember being grateful for that. I don’t know what I would have done if she looked at us like that to our faces. Probably screamed my fucking head off.But I had already done enough of that earlier to last us both a lifetime. 

I still remember your first smile, as you picked at the bacon on the side of my plate, nibbling the edges and proclaiming it ‘Too Salty’ for your delicate tastes.I think I jostled you a little and we laughed, our hands laced together under the table as we ate.We were finally free, Harrow.I had never felt more alive, more solid and real, than I did then.And neither had you, I don’t think.The future was ours.We could do anything we wanted, go anywhere we wanted. No one could stop us. Our lives were finally our own, and we were eating pancakes and soup in a 24 hour diner off a highway exit in who-knows-what town, at who-knows-what hour, and it was  _ perfect _ . 

We ate fast once we got started, ravenous, barely spoke eight words to each other until we were done.But then we talked, our hush voices bouncing back and forth as we bumped shoulders and traded looks.We dreamt up everything our lives could be, our most outlandish hopes and aspirations.We didn’t really think we’d make it past the next week, but I remember it felt so good to pretend with you, in that little red booth.You pretended to be offended at each new nickname I lovingly threw at you, scraping my heart bare just to see you laugh at the absurdity.Your pointy little face was always so sad and angry.I loved seeing you able to smile and laugh, even if it was still tentative back then.

You grabbed the pen right out of my hand as soon as I finished signing the bill and I pretended to pout, but you just stuck your tongue out at me and I couldn’t help but laugh and hold you closer.My hand on your bony little hip.I remember watching carefully as you flipped our copy of the bill over, flattening it out and staring at the white surface for so long I thought you had zoned out.You looked up at me then, and I was as helpless as I ever was when you looked at me, frozen in your gaze.Your face pinched up and you said firmly: ‘There was nothing left for us in Drearburh.And we sure as hell have nothing now.’And I remember how badly I wanted to kiss you, then.I didn’t.Not there.But I put my hand over yours and I squeezed it.I told you, ‘I have you, and that’s worth more than all the nothing in that godforsaken town.’ And, Harrow, I meant it.I still do.Hell, as long as I have you, we could be anywhere and I’d still have everything I wanted in the whole world.I think I’ve always felt that way, really? 

It used to scare me so much back then, when we were younger, back when you still hated me.That town tried everything it could to ground me into dust, but as long as you looked at me, even if it was with that icy hate in your eyes, I knew I’d still get up in the morning.I knew I’d still go about my day, I’d meet you head on when you came at me, jabs ready.And I knew I’d still go to bed with the memory of your nails clawing under my skin.You always have been bone deep, Nonagesimus. 

You made that list then, pressed against my side in that diner, empty plates before us, nursing the last of our coffees.You wrote down everything we had to our names, in your scratchy blue handwriting.The few clothes and toiletries we managed to throw into my duffle bag, the random snacks and survival kit I had in my dusty third-hand pickup, my trusty pocket knife, a scratchy wool blanket, about $500 partially stolen from your mother, and the rest I had saved up from working at the garage, and that was it.Well not everything. You didn’t list it, but I knew you still had that creepy bone rosary, the one that had been your grandmother’s.I had seen you shove it into your bandeau as we rushed to get out of there.But I wasn’t going to call you on it. 

You put the list in my hand and you said: ‘On this we build our foundation, Gideon.From now on we don’t have nothing.Here begins our something.’And I carefully tucked that receipt into my wallet like it was my most prize possession. You were always such a poet, Harrow. You still are.And every time you said my name, especially back then when it was still so new to hear it with fondness instead of hate, I felt my insides melt a little more.I was absolutely head-over-heels in love with you. I still am, you bony gremlin. 

As we left that diner to get back on the road, I remember our waitress came up to us near the door.I got myself between her and you so fast it could have been funny if I hadn’t just looked like a feral dog protecting the only thing in my entire life that mattered. But she just smiled placatingly and left a distance between us like I really was some feral stray, holding out a box with 2 giant chocolate chip muffins in it. ‘On the house,’ she had said, and ‘stay safe.’I’m not proud of it, but I think I snatched the box and ran, shoving you out the door with me.She had sounded so motherly, and so gentle when she handed us that box.Back then, I didn’t know how to handle anything that wasn’t sharp.I just hurried you back into the truck without another word, tucking the box away carefully before I pulled back onto the highway. 

We didn’t know where we were going, not really.We had some loose plan to make it to the city, to find jobs, an apartment.I was good with my hands, could work at a garage, and we were going to find you something you could do that they’d actually pay you for, nunlet that you were.We were young, and finally free, and nothing else mattered. We’d make it however we had to, as long as we had each other.I remember you held my hand over the gear shift as we drove. And nothing else mattered.Not the bone tiredness that followed us everywhere in those coming months, or the weeks we spent living in the truck. Not that dumb barista uniform you hated and I loved to mock you for, nor the permanent oil and gasoline smell that clung to me like a second skin.We had each other and that was enough.  
  


“Griddle?”

I looked up when your hand settled on my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts and straight into your eyes again.Those damn dark eyes, my only weakness. I smiled and leaned back against you, bonking you in the chest. 

“Oh, don’t you smile at me!I was calling you from the door for a full minute to come say hello to Sextus before he left! Needless to say, you missed him! I thought you must have hit your head on a cabinet, or asphyxiated on clorox fumes!” 

I know I should’ve been paying attention, but I couldn’t stop staring at you.I was probably getting a little moon-eyed and watery, but I didn’t care.I still can’t believe how far we’ve come. We survived. 

“Griddle.Do I have something on my face? Have you finally lost your tiny little peanut brain?” 

My sepulchral bone empress, my penumbral mistress, my night boss.I wrapped my free arm, the one not holding the list, around your tiny waist and pulled you against my side. You yelped and muttered something, but wrapped both your arms around my shoulders anyway, and I was content.There’s nowhere else in the world I would rather be, than right at your side forever.That’s when you finally noticed I was holding something, your sharp eyes zeroing in on it. 

“What’s that?”

You gently took it out of my hand and I watched you read it, your dark eyes softening just like mine had.I was sitting and you were standing, which meant my head fit right into your chest, cradled by your tiny little boobs. My favorite spot. You looked down at me and smiled, just a little one, brushing your hand through the hair on top of my head.

“If those scared kids could see us now...” I murmured, a little wetly, staring up into your shining eyes. And you were staring back down into mine. 

“Oh, Griddle...” 

I wanted to kiss you.So I did. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly inspired by The Things We Lost in The Fire by Bastille! I have been obsessed with this AU and it’s possibilities for days now, so there’s potential I could write some more if there’s interest!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Kudos and comments always appreciated!


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